A Land Time Forgot

This rated in the Top 10 of the NZ Herald travel writing contest 

published on 6th January 2004

It's summer in Tuscany and a walk from our villa apartment to the nearest village is an easy amble along a twisting rural road.  Only mid-morning and already the sun beats down. Halfway there we shelter beneath the gnarled and twisted branches of an ancient olive tree.  The grass is damp and cool.

Beside the road we watch an elderly local hoeing his vegetable garden.  He dosn't seem to notice the heat.  He wears a large straw hat and a loose, faded blue cotton shirt over baggy brown trousers.  

As he moves, he seems to merge into the earth and sky.  Under the relentless gaze of the sun he shuffles slowly across the fertile soil, patiently bending and plucking, stooping and pulling each and every weed.  He often stops, muttering and singing to the soil.

His slowness lulls and soothes us.  His movement is hypnotic and timeless as if he has been doing this for hundreds of years and will on doing it forever.

This ancient land is so different from our bustling modern world.  Here we can gaze across the unfenced landscape of oak forests, vineyards and olive groves to the distant blue hills and have a sense of the place a millennium ago.

When we look a little closer - explore some of the ancient hill towns and absorb the rhythm of daily life - this sense of a continuum of life is even more apparent.  Here we truly find the time out we crave. 

And so with that success as inspiration, begins Sojourning - a collection of my impressions captured along the way and in the raw during my travels this year.